


A Friend In Need

by beyoursupermantonight



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Literally nothing but omo, M/M, Omorashi, and some flirting, as one does when one really has to pee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyoursupermantonight/pseuds/beyoursupermantonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern lawyers AU. Alexander, being the wonderful friend that he is, drags John halfway across town to deliver a briefing in the middle of rush hour. Unfortunately, John neglected to pee before they left.</p><p>Alexander, being the wonderful friend that he is, makes it his mission to help him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend In Need

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you're looking to discover a new kink... Welcome. :)

When the memo came across his desk, Alexander knew there was only one thing that was going to make delivering a brief across town in the middle of rush hour bearable, and that was dragging John along with him.

Alexander rapped his knuckles sharply on the high quality fiberglass walls of John’s “office” (cubicle), and grinned at the way John jumped slightly and then tried to make it look like he was just stretching. John turned from his computer to arch an eyebrow at him, and Alex held up his briefcase.

“Washington wants the Kellington brief at the courthouse immediately, but since The Flash doesn’t work here, he’s tasked the Super Interns with delivering it,” Alex explained.

“You have to stop calling us that,” John retorted, making absolutely no move to get up from his chair.

Alex frowned. Did John not understand the intense urgency of the situation? The opportunity for them to distinguish themselves in a heroic manner? Or, at the very least, the chance for them to escape the drab offices of _Washington, Jefferson, & Madison, LLC_ for an hour?

(Maybe two, if they took the long way back, and Alex could convince John to stop for slices of pizza on the way.)

“Whatever. If I agree to come up with a _new_ brilliant nickname for us, will you come with me?” Alex asked, flashing John a smile and doing his best to look his most winsome.

He wasn’t sure if the smiling thing actually worked or if John was just as bored today as he was, but to his great relief John nodded, offering up a sigh as he stood from his chair. “Alright, alright. But when we get back, you’re helping me research the past precedents for the free speech in schools case.”

“Sure,” Alex replied warmly, certain that by the time they got back, he’d have thought of a perfect excuse for exactly why he could never do that.

As they made their way down to the first floor, they traded stories about the horrors of their day, chatting so easily and distractedly that Alex almost didn’t catch the subtle signs that something was amiss.

Almost.

It was as they were passing through the front lobby that Alex noticed John’s attention starting to drift. His replies were a little more distracted, and he was looking around the room instead of looking at Alex. His gaze lingered on the men’s bathroom near the front door. A janitorial cart was blocking the entrance to the bathroom, and it was clearly out of use for the time being. Alex saw John’s hand clench into a fist and then unclench, and he frowned. Did John need to use the bathroom?

Over the past few months of working together, they had picked up on several of each other’s habits. But one of John’s that Alex still didn’t understand was the way it sometimes seemed like he wouldn’t go to the bathroom when he needed to. He would wait until it was obvious that he needed to pee, until he was squirming and tapping his feet and barely keeping from doing a full-on potty dance in the office. Alex’s latest theories were that he was pee shy, or was germophobic about public bathrooms.

And, okay, maybe Alex paid a little bit too much attention to John’s bathroom habits, but he _cared_ about John, and when he cared about someone, he wanted to know everything about them. Including why they refused to go to the bathroom regularly like a normal person.

As they stepped outside into the fresh (okay, maybe not so fresh, maybe more stale-hot-dogs-and-dirty-subway-breeze) New York City air, Alex kept a close eye on John. Maybe he’d just been imagining the distracted, longing looks in the lobby. Maybe he was just bored and looking for a puzzle to solve.

And then John bounced twice on his heels and went up on his toes, one of his “signature” moves when he needed to go, and Alex had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide the knowing grin.

“So which courthouse is Washington at today?” John asked as they stepped up to the edge of the sidewalk, holding out his arm to hail a cab.

Alex was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the slight undercurrent of tension he heard in John’s voice. “The one on 57th,” he replied casually, keeping his eyes on John’s face and feeling rewarded when he saw his eyes widen slightly.

“That’s going to be a long drive,” John said quietly, almost to himself. “Especially at this hour.”

Alex shrugged. “Probably. That’s why I wanted you for company,” he said with a grin, leaning over to bump his shoulder against John’s.

John smiled genuinely at that, even if it was a little smaller than Alex was used to seeing. “Maybe we should take the subway,” he said carefully, sounding like he was going for deliberately casual. “Might have better luck.”

It was true that during rush hour sometimes the trains moved faster than cars all jammed together like very impatient sardines, but the back of a cab was more intimate. For friendship reasons.

(He didn’t want it for friendship reasons.)

Alex just shook his head. “They’re so crowded at this hour, though,” he replied simply. “I’d rather be comfortable. Besides, it gives us an excuse to be away from the office longer.” A cab finally pulled up to them, and Alex moved forward to open the door before John could argue the point any further.

He let John get in first before quickly sliding in after him, paying more attention to him than the cabbie as he rattled off the address. John put his seatbelt on, but he immediately pulled the strap away from his stomach, loosening it so much that it wasn’t even touching him anymore. His thighs were pressed tightly together, and Alex nearly raised an eyebrow. He must have to go pretty badly if he was already having to sit a specific way.

Alex tried to keep their usual banter going, and for awhile, John was able to keep up with him. The cab inched slowly through downtown Manhattan traffic at its worst, and every block or so John’s need to pee seemed to inch closer to true desperation. First, he started tapping his foot idly against the floorboard. He tried to make it look casual, but the rhythm quickly became too fast and frantic to be anything but a sign of desperation. Another block went by and he started to shift minutely in his seat, slight changes to the angles of his hips, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, he crossed one leg tightly over the other, foot tapping in the air now, before he suddenly leaned forward with a soft groan.

“Are you okay, John?” Alex asked quietly, reaching up to close the partition separating them from the driver.

John let out a slow breath, a look of intense concentration on his face before he seemed to come to a decision. “I’m fine. I just need to pee.” He was clearly aiming for casual, but it came out semi-breathless, and as soon as he finished talking he swiveled his hips in his seat, legs still tightly crossed.

Alex blinked at the confirmation of what he had suspected, although he was most definitely _not_ at a loss for words. (But why did he suddenly feel so warm?) “You don’t like fine,” he blurted. “You look the opposite of fine.”

“Yeah, well, I really have to go,” John retorted, squirming again before shifting to recross his legs the other way. They seemed to be crossed so tightly that Alex was sure he must be cutting off circulation somewhere. “I haven’t gone since this morning.”

“Why do you do that?” Alex asked, before hastily adding, “Not judging, just wondering. I’ve noticed… Well. I don’t think this is the first time you’ve been about to piss your pants in the middle of a work day.”

John flushed bright red at that, and glanced out the window for a moment, whining softly at the lines of cars stretched all around them. “I don’t like—It’s a private function, Alexander. And I don’t like to do it in front of people I know, people I work with, and you never know who else might be in the bathroom. I don’t even like people knowing I have to pee.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Alex asked before he could stop himself.

“Because you’re different.” The blush on John’s cheeks went up to the tip of his ears. “By which I mean I knew you’d just bug me about it until I told you, so I figured I’d just get it over with.”

“Well. It is my utmost honor to be your special case,” Alex replied with a grin, ready to respond with more teasing when John suddenly gasped and put his hands on the seat, lifting his butt up and down a few times as he whined, clearly trying to work himself through a sudden urge. All of Alexander’s sassy retorts died in his throat.

“Alex, I need to pee. I need to pee so badly,” John whimpered. Now that he had confessed, it seemed the (metaphorical, for now) floodgates were open and he wasn’t going to hold anything back out of shyness.

“How much did you drink today?” Alex found himself asking. (He didn’t think about why he was asking.)

And apparently John didn’t think about it, either, because he immediately replied, “Two cups of coffee this morning because I was up all night working on the Kerry briefing, a diet coke with lunch, another diet coke in the afternoon, and oh god, soup for lunch. _Soup_. Who even eats soup for lunch?”

Alex would chuckle at how adorable he was being if he wasn’t worried John would take it the wrong way in his current state. “That _is_ a lot of liquids,” he agreed. “Your bladder most be so full.” Always inquisitive, Alex reached over before John could stop him, fingers brushing over his lower abdomen. He could feel the rock-hard bulge of his swollen bladder even through his dress shirt. “Fuck,” Alex breathed.

John gasped at the contact of Alex’s fingers and shuddered, immediately reaching down to shove his hand away as he gave a full-body squirm and grinded down against the seat. “ _Don’t do that!_ ” he hissed. “Why would you do that? God, you’re the worst friend.” John let his head fall back against the seat as the worst of the urge seemed to pass, although his hips were still doing a constant dance side to side.

“I’m the _best_ friend,” Alex corrected. “I’m going to help you get to a toilet before you completely wet yourself, and I’m not even going to tease you about any of this until at least the day after tomorrow.”

John tried to glare at him, but it was interrupted by another wave of urgency, one of his hands flying to his crotch as he bent forward with a moan. When he finally sat back up, it seemed to take some amount of effort for him to pull his hand out from between his thighs. His cheeks were bright red, and there were tears glistening in his eyes. “This is so humiliating,” he whispered.

“No, it isn’t. I have to go, too,” Alex replied. And it wasn’t even a lie, he realized. Seeing John so desperate and watching him squirm and bounce had made Alex feel a definite need to pee, too. Or maybe it was the four cups of coffee and a water bottle that he had had that afternoon. Either way, his bladder was starting to throb in a way that meant he’d want to use the courthouse bathroom before they headed back.

John clearly doubted the sincerity of his words, though, as he raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Just because I’m doing a potty dance doesn’t mean I’m a child,” he retorted, foot bouncing wildly. “You don’t have to placate me.”

Alex smiled, kindly this time, and said again, “No, I really do need to pee. I only just realized it, because you’ve been, well… a little distracting, but, yeah, I can definitely feel my bladder filling and the pressure rising, and I mean, I _did_ drink four cups of coffee and a—“

“Oh god, not helping, not helping, stop talking,” John interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut. He suddenly uncrossed his legs and started fanning his thighs open and closed, shifting so that his butt was balanced right on the very edge of the seat.

Alex swallowed, and shut his mouth.

(Because John asked him to. _Not_ because he was speechless.)

John glanced out the window again, looking in utter agony as he started squirming around on the seat and tried crossing his legs again. He undid his seatbelt, clearly needing more room to move and bounce. “Oh, fuck, please tell me we’re almost there, I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”

Alex did his own scan out the window and Super Accurate Estimate of traffic, before scooting a little closer to John, rubbing a hand up and down his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. It didn’t appear to be very soothing, though, as John just shivered, as if even that little bit of pressure was too much for him right now. Alex took his hand away and murmured, “You’re going to make it. It’s only about another fifteen minutes.”

John made a noise like he was dying, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, I can’t, I’m going to have an accident, I’m going to pee my pants.” He looked desperately at Alex, pleading for help.

“No, you aren’t,” Alex said firmly, as if he could control this situation through sheer force of will like he tried to do with everything else. “You’re going to do whatever you need to to hold it. It’s just you and me back here, and I won’t judge you. And then when we get to the courthouse, I’ll get you straight to the bathroom.”

John nodded, scooting again to the edge of the seat so that he could fan his thighs open and closed. He seemed to be thinking about something for a few seconds, hesitating, and then his fingers were fumbling shakily at the waistband of his pants, a soft whine of relief escaping his lips as he got the button undone, freeing up a little more room for his swollen bladder. John leaned back against the seat with a groan, hips still shaking from side to side and one foot tapping out an endless rhythm against the floor.

Alex’s own bladder was a dull ache in his lower abdomen, but he ignored it. It was hardly anything he hadn’t dealt with before; and besides, the most important thing was making sure he didn’t add to John’s distress in any way. Still, he shifted slightly in his seat, and subtly loosened his seatbelt.

There was no music in the car, so Alex went to his old standby and tried to fill the space with talking. John was too far gone to contribute in any way beyond “mmhms” and “uh huhs” (and even then, Alex was pretty sure that most of those were just John’s responses to the tortured state of his body), so Alex rambled on about work and their bosses and how much he sometimes hated their bosses and sometimes hated their coworkers and sometimes hated almost everyone but John, really. And John wiggled in his seat like a two-year-old, bouncing up and down and leaning forward whenever a particularly bad urge would hit him, legs crossed impossibly tightly at his thighs and ankles.

They were about seven minutes out from the courthouse when John suddenly turned to Alex, eyes wide and a look of utter panic on his face. “Alex, I—I can’t hold it—it’s right there—oh shit, I’m leaking, I’m leaking, Alex—“

In a heartbeat, Alex undid his seatbelt and slid across the seat, one hand shoving roughly between John’s thighs and gripping the tip of his cock through his slacks. Alex could feel the wet fabric of John’s dress pants where he had leaked against his palm, and it made his own bladder throb. He squirmed slightly and gritted his teeth, determined to ignore it. “John Laurens, you are not going to wet yourself in the back of this cab. You are going to _hold it_ , like a big boy, and make it to the courthouse.”

John was staring at him with wide eyes, pupils blown, and an unmistakable blush on his cheeks. Alex was trying to decide if it was embarrassment or want (wishful thinking, probably), when he felt John’s cock twitch against his palm. Alex groaned softly, and gave John a very different kind of squeeze before finally taking his hand away. John immediately replaced it with his own, no longer shy about needing to hold himself to keep from completely flooding his pants and the seat. “Thank you,” John murmured. The smile on his lips was the first genuine one of the day.

Alex sat back in his seat, breathless. He shifted his hips, trying to find a more comfortable position, and didn’t bother putting his seatbelt back on. It seemed silly when they’d be there so soon.

(And of course that was his only reason for not wanting the strap pressed against his abdomen.)

John was more subdued for the last few minutes of their trip, watching Alex out of the corner of his eye, but he still squirmed and bounced like his life (or at the very least his pants) depended on it. He had both hands buried in his crotch, one leg crossed over the other as he tried to hold on, applying as much pressure as possible to keep everything inside. When they finally pulled up outside the courthouse, he looked over at Alex nervously.

Alex quickly paid the driver, wincing at how leaning forward tugged on his own overly full bladder. He looked back at John, and gave him a reassuring smile. “Just wait there. I’ll come around and get the door for you,” he murmured. He quickly got out of his own side of the car, but had to freeze right after shutting the door. It seemed that the moment he stood up, all of the liquid he had been trying not to think about had plummeted straight to his bladder. “Fuck,” Alexander breathed, crossing his legs and hunching forward for a moment as an intense wave of desperation hit him. For a few seconds, he thought he was going to lose it right there on the sidewalk.

He clenched every muscle as tight as he could, thighs tensed and pressed together as he focused on holding it, _holding it_ , and after a few seconds, the urge faded into something that was _just_ manageable. His bladder was still pulsing insistently, like someone beating on a drum that had been stretched too tight, and he felt like he had to walk with his thighs kept very close together, but he was certain he could make it to a bathroom.

As long as it was very nearby.

He hurried around to John’s side as quickly as he could with the tight, tense steps he was taking, giving John another smile as he pulled open the door. “Alright, let’s get you to a potty,” he teased, although there was more warmth than actual mocking in his voice. He held out his hand to John.

John visibly paled and tensed, and took a shaky breath before finally releasing his hand from his crotch. He whimpered as he stood up, wiggling and squirming the whole time he was climbing out of the car, unable to keep still even for a second. “Oh my god, I need to pee, I need to pee, I’m gonna pee,” he chanted, voice low enough that only Alex heard.

Alex gritted his teeth at the words, his own bladder throbbing along in desperate sympathy, pushing the ball of urine down towards his cock. It felt like the stream was already at the tip, half a second away from coming out, but there was just no way—no _fucking_ way—he could be this desperate already. Alex didn’t hold his pee endlessly like John did; he just went to the bathroom when he needed to, and this sort of thing didn’t happen to him.

Alex squeezed John’s hand tight as they stepped away from the car, and he wasn’t sure which of them he was really doing it for anymore. “Come on, come on, let’s go,” he murmured, dragging John towards the steps of the courthouse.

But John was moving even slower than Alex, shuffling along with his thighs pressed so tightly together that Alex wasn’t sure they even parted at all. When they got to the steps that they had to climb—about a dozen of them—John cried out. “I’m not gonna make it. Fuck, I have to go so bad, I can’t hold it, I can’t, I’m gonna pee,” he whimpered.

Alex rolled his eyes and crossed his legs, bouncing in place and thanking every deity that John was too out of it to notice what he was doing. “You’ve made it this far. How embarrassing would it be to give up now and lose it on the steps?” Alex challenged, swiveling his hips from side to side as subtly as he could.

John was not being subtle at all; he had taken to hopping from one foot to the other, wriggling his butt between hops and clearly doing the most obvious version of a potty dance that Alex had ever seen. But he nodded, and shuffled forward onto the steps.

They kept having to stop every few steps so that John could do his full-on potty dance again, tapping his feet and marching in place as he puffed out breaths of air, cheeks bright red. Near the top, he had to cross his legs tightly at the thighs and bend over nearly double, one hand pressed against his crotch as he rocked up and down on his toes. “I—I leaked again,” he whispered to Alex.

As they finally cleared the last step, Alex couldn’t stay still, either. He could feel that tickling, tingling sensation at the tip of his cock that meant the stream was _right there_ and he needed to pee _right now_. But it was fine, he was still fine. There was absolutely no way he was going to so much as leak, not this close to relief. He had more self-control than that, even if he did have to maintain that control by wiggling his hips constantly and keeping his thighs pressed very tightly together.

They made it into the lobby, and Alex smiled. At last, a bit of good luck. There, near the door, were the restrooms, and no janitorial cart was blocking this one. He was still squeezing John’s hand—maybe a little tighter than he should’ve been—as they both waddled over as quickly as they could, John’s free hand hovering near his crotch. Alex’s free hand was clenched in a fist against his thigh.

As soon as they stepped through the men’s room door, John seemed to get a burst of energy. He let go of Alex’s hand and waddle-ran over to the urinals, bouncing and hopping in place as he struggled violently to get his zipper undone, which seemed to have chosen _now_ as the perfect time to stick halfway down. John cried out in frustration, glancing around to make sure that he and Alex were the only two in the bathroom, so at least he didn’t have to worry about humiliating himself in front of anyone new as he potty-danced in front of the urinal. He was already starting to pee as he finally fished his cock out, leaking a bit more in his underwear as his muscles lost the fight. He managed to aim into the urinal just as the stream turned full force, moaning deeply in relief.

Alex couldn’t move. He was stopped halfway into the bathroom, halfway to the urinals and relief and escape from embarrassment, and he _couldn’t move_. An overwhelming urge had hit him as soon as they had stepped into the bathroom, the sight of being so close to relief sending shockwaves of need to his bladder. One leg had twisted around the other like a pretzel, and both hands were buried in his crotch as he bent forward, clenching every muscle in his body as he tried to hold on. He was trembling with the effort, hips still swiveling frantically as he tried to keep from losing control.

And then he heard the splash of John’s pee hitting porcelain, the forceful stream, and he felt a spurt escape him. He let out a low groan. He was leaking into his underwear, and he still couldn’t move.

John seemed to pee for an eternity. As his stream trailed off to a trickle, Alex leaked another spurt into his underwear, longer this time, and moaned again. This time John heard it.

John turned to look at him, a confused frown on his face, and Alex tried valiantly not to blush or cry. But instead of making fun of him or rolling his eyes, John just quickly zipped himself up and stepped around Alex to lock the door. He then turned towards him with a sympathetic smile, holding his hands out like one would to a wounded animal. “Easy, Alex,” John murmured. “You’re almost there. Just a few more steps, you can do it.”

Alex shook his head, hips wiggling and bouncing frantically in place as his hands stayed clamped on his crotch. He could feel the dampness on his palms now, and knew he had soaked through his underwear. “I can’t,” he bit out. “I can’t. If I—I move, I’ll pee.” He whimpered as another wave of desperation washed over him, sending him down on one knee and sitting on his heel, frantically writhing back and forth as he tried to hold on. His cock and bladder ached from holding back the flood, pulsing along with his heartbeat like an overly sensitive plucked string. “John, I can’t,” he pleaded. “Oh, fuck, I need to pee, I need to pee so bad, it hurts.”

John didn’t even hesitate as he knelt down right in front of Alex, hands moving to rest warm and firm on Alex’s shoulders. “Alex, it’s okay. Just let go. It’s okay.”

Alex shook his head again. He couldn’t wet himself all over the floor like a child, in front of _John_.

But John (damn him for being oddly stubborn at the worst times) didn’t seem like he was going to take no for answer. He pulled Alex’s head towards him and coaxed it to rest on his shoulder, with Alex’s face tucked in against his neck, and he started murmuring again about how it was okay, and Alex could let go, and he was safe here, he was safe with John.

In the end, Alex didn’t know if it was the soothing promises that tipped him over the edge or if his bladder truly couldn’t hold another drop of liquid for a moment longer, but Alex moaned when he felt his muscles give way, warmth spreading from the tip of his cock and across his lap as he lost control, the stream slowly picking up force. “Oh, god, John, I’m peeing. Fuck. I’m peeing, I’m—I’m wetting myself.” Even in the midst of shock, Alexander couldn’t help but provide commentary.

Alex could feel the pee dripping down and starting to form a puddle beneath him, but still John didn’t pull away. He simply held Alex close, and rubbed his back soothingly as they both listened to the steady hiss.

When the stream finally tapered into silence, John waited a moment before saying calmly, “Well. I know you said you wanted this afternoon to be a bonding experience, but I didn’t realize that _this_ was what you had in mind.”

Alex snorted, a little breathless as he replied, “Just wanted to impress you with something outside the norm for our first date.”

And now it was John’s turn to snort and roll his eyes. “Did you seriously just try to twist delivering a work-related briefing and getting into pee-related hijinks into a date?”

Alex sat up more fully, pulling back enough to give John an impressively raised eyebrow, because _really_. “’Pee-related hijinks’, John? That’s really what you’re calling this? But more to the point, yes, I did, because it _is_ a date. Obviously.” Alexander started holding up fingers before John could get a word out. “One, I invited you out alone. Two, I paid for a cab. Three, it involved drinks. Although, admittedly, the expulsion of drinks rather than the consumption, but the point is still valid for the purposes of—“

John surged forward and pressed his lips to Alex’s, effectively stopping the argument.

Alex let him.

(He totally would’ve won, anyway.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing an omo fic. I'd love to hear feedback on what worked for you and what didn't! You can also find me on tumblr at beyoursupermantonight and downwhereitswetter-omo (and I do take prompts!)
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


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